


Goop

by ilse_writes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, Don't drink while reading, Gen, Getting Clean, Humor, M/M, Monster of the Week, POV Derek Hale, Pre-Slash, getting dirty, getting naked, in that order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29557518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilse_writes/pseuds/ilse_writes
Summary: Trolls - "They're not trolls, Derek." - explode. Who knew?
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 2
Kudos: 65





	Goop

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing could be an excuse to get them naked.

There's sickly grey coloured goop everywhere. Everywhere. Derek can feel it running through his crack. Or, more like slithering. It's disgusting. It smells too.

"It's in my mouth. I think I'm gonna throw up," Isaac says behind him, voice wobbling slightly as if the throwing up part is imminent. 

"Please don't, this is disgusting enough already," Derek answers absentmindedly, looking around for something they can clean themselves with. They're in an old quarry, there is not much there besides rocks.

"It's in my - how the hell did it get in my-" Stiles tries to pull his pants away from his skin without removing them fully. He probably has the same goop-in-unwanted places situation Derek has. They were in the first line of fire. Or rather, it was just Stiles, until Derek dove for him to get him out of the way. And failed. Although, in his defence, they were out of range of the creature's stone crushing fists, which he thought were the danger. And he succeeded in that: Stiles wasn't beaten to pulp. He was just covered in goop, head to toe.

"Who knew trolls exploded, huh?" Scott remarks airily. He is by far the cleanest of them, not counting Boyd and Erica who were tasked with rounding up the last of the creatures inside the quarry and guarding the only exit, placing them conveniently out of the splash zone. Derek has sent them back for the cars, which are parked on the other side of a now demolished bridge. They'll have to drive around, it’ll take a while.

"Those weren’t trolls, Scotty, didn't you listen when -"

"Shut up," Derek cuts in. He doesn't care what subspecies of their monster of the week this was. There were three of them. They looked like trolls, they walked like trolls, they smelled as foul as trolls. And they exploded spectacularly when you doused them in the potion Deaton made them, a blue concoction to be applied like a Molotov cocktail. Derek had a thing or two to say to Deaton about that. 

"Oh my god, this shit dries out." Isaac doesn’t sound too happy about that and Derek is starting to feel why. It's like his clothes are turning into stone. He doesn't want to wait and see whether it'll become real stone or not.  
"I can't feel my face," Isaac moans quietly, still trying to get the goop off his head with his goop covered hands. His whole upper body is covered in the stuff, with a fair amount of spatter on his legs.

"At least you don't have that shit all over your junk," Stiles bites out, plucking at his skinny jeans like they've personally offended him. That's usually how Derek feels about Stiles' jeans, ever since Lydia took him shopping and his clothes started to be a lot more form fitting in the pants area. She hadn't been able to talk him out of his beloved flannel though, which was actually quite heroic of Stiles, going against Lydia's fashion advice like that. Derek had always considered himself lucky she had decided the "whole West Side Story look works on you". 

Derek climbs up against the sloped road of the quarry, slipping on the loose gravel. There’s an old building on one of the upper levels, maybe they can find something there to clean up with. His pack follows him, bemoaning themselves and their ruined clothes wholeheartedly.   
He finds an old firehose at the back of the building and sure enough, although highly unlikely in an abandoned place like this, the water is still running. He hits Isaac in the face with the jet stream, who is too relieved to be able to open his eyes fully again to get mad about the wet - and probably quite painful from this close - surprise.   
Derek washes his own face and hands, clawing off his shirt next. It's already ruined anyway. The two wolves follow suit, stripping down to get hosed off. The water is ice cold and stings, but it gets the job done, leaving soaking wet and bright pink colored wolves behind. Scott chose to leave his purple boxer shorts on, a rather ratty pair that makes Derek think it was laundry day. He could as well have chucked them, like Isaac, who is covering his package in one hand and rubbing his torso warm with the other. They won’t be cold for long, the heightened body temperature of werewolves comes in handy in cases like this.  
When Derek removes his jeans - no boxer shorts there, it was laundry day for him too - he has to use considerable force to get the stiff fabric off his legs. There’s a definitive ripping sound heard before he is free of the contraption that was formerly his favourite pair of jeans.

"Aw, damn, those were my favourite," he hears Stiles mumble quietly, but when he turns the boy isn't mourning any clothing of his own. In fact, he hasn't yet removed any of them. 

“Why aren’t you naked?” he barks out, already annoyed by whatever reason Stiles has come up with to not follow his directions this time.

“Jezus!” Stiles startles out of his hunched examination of the goop that has found its way into his jeans pockets. If anything fits in there at all, the jeans are that tight. He actually has to strain to come upright again, his clothes already as stiff as a board.

“Strip!” Derek orders. 

Stiles flushes, the colour in his cheeks so bright it shines through the grey goop that covers his face. “Does that… Does that line ever work for you?” he asks in a tone that would be considered cheeky if the blush didn’t ruin it for him. His eyes are also darting in every direction before darting back to Derek and away again, as if he doesn’t know where to look.

Derek points the hose at him. “Take. Off. Your. Clothes.”

“Come on, Stiles, don’t be shy!” Scott calls over, his voice slightly breathy from the jumping up and down he is doing to get warm faster.

“Easy for you to say,” Stiles sneers, with a laboured flail of his arm. The goop is starting to really constrict his movements, it looks odd on his normally ever moving frame. “With the magical abs of steel you all have going on. I feel…” he steals a quick look at Derek, “severely under-muscled.”

Derek rolls his eyes. Of course Stiles would feel self conscious in a moment like this. Typical. The boy broadcasts every tiny emotion on his face and with his smell, laying him bare if Derek were inclined to put his nose close. He is lucky the Betas haven’t developed their abilities fully yet, Derek is sure it would earn Stiles many a teasing remark.

Scott has stopped his jumping and shrugs. “It’s nothing we haven’t seen before, dude. We’re all guys here. Besides, you look good! You’ve got like this whole…” Scott trails off, not sure how to finish. Derek would know, but he isn’t gonna offer his opinion. “Isaac, Stiles looks good, right?”

Isaac doesn’t even look at Stiles when he answers. “Whatever man, I don’t care. Just hurry up so we can get out of here.”

Scott offers an apologetic smile at his best friend. “It’s just like in the locker room. We’re a team, better yet, we're a pack!” His smile gets brighter, like he’s very happy to have come up with that last little argument.

Stiles frowns at that. “Some of us more than others,” he starts to say, but Derek cuts that nonsense right off.

“You’re pack,” he says pointedly. “You two,” he directs towards Scott and Isaac, “go check inside. See if you can find something to wear.”  
The wolves turn as one to the rundown building and a moment later the sounds of them breaking down the door are heard. Derek lets the hose hang limply over his arm when he turns back to Stiles, waiting for the boy to get a move on.

Stiles frowns. “Not all of us are that comfortable in their birthday suit, dude,” he mutters, glancing at Derek’s current state of undress. Derek turns on the hose shortly, directing it at Stiles’ legs. The boy jumps and yells, almost falling over his own feet. “Warn a guy, dude!”  
Derek doesn’t answer, he just stares pointily until Stiles gets the message and sighs, his hands coming up to his shirt to start undressing. “This is not how I imagined getting naked with you would go. Not that I’ve ever imagined that.” Derek quirks an eyebrow. “Okay, geez, cool it with the werewolf lie detector, give a guy a break. I may have imagined it once, or twice. Or…” Stiles twists and turns to pull at his shirt, his breathing getting laboured. “God damn it, why won’t this come off?!”

Derek puts the hose down and steps closer to Stiles, hands out to help. He waits for a nod of Stiles before he puts his hands on the boy and Stiles seems grateful for that. Stiles’ shirt was completely drenched in goop, resulting in Stiles being dressed in something that reminds Derek of plaster. He pulls hard and the fabric rips, igniting a pained moan from Stiles.  
“They can’t be salvaged,” Derek offers quietly, trying to rip the fabric without hurting the boy. It doesn’t work that well and he can see a red mark beneath Stiles armpit, where the fabric has pulled too sharply against his skin. Derek drops his hands. “This won’t work.”

Stiles tries to wiggle out of the stiff tatters of his shirt. “We need scissors or something,” he pants, trying to free his arm. He almost falls over in his attempt, tripping over a loose rock. 

“I have these?” Derek holds up his hand, letting the claws come out. 

“That…” Stiles swallows audibly. “That would work.” Derek nods and comes closer again, to cut Stiles free of his clothes. “Be careful, alright? Don’t wanna be gutted like a pig by werewolf claws.”

Derek shakes his head and sighs, feeling the remark cut a little deeper than it should. “I won’t hurt you, Stiles.”

When he looks up, Stiles is waiting for him to catch his eyes, nodding earnestly. “I know, dude.”

The “Don’t call me dude” response is perfunctory by now and a small, content smile plays over Derek’s lips, invisible to Stiles. He starts with cutting Stiles' shirt right down the middle on his back, pulling one claw gently through the fabric. It’s not enough to get him free. Derek has to cut the front too and then each arm, slicing his claw through the material by Stiles’ armpit so carefully slow that he expects the boy to tell him to hurry up, yet he doesn’t. Stiles is just watching him work, his slightly uneven breath fanning out over the side of Derek’s bowed head.

When the shirts (flannel and undershirt) are off, that leaves Stiles’ skinny jeans, which are truly plastered to his skin by now. “Oh my god,” Stiles murmurs. “This is so embarrassing.”

Derek ignores his comment and drops down to a knee and cuts open the side of Stiles’ goop covered Converses. He pries his fingers between the two parts and pulls them open. “Pull your foot out,” he says, looking up to Stiles who is gaping down at him with glossy eyes and red splotches high on his cheeks. Derek willfully ignores the resulting pull low in his gut.   
It takes a second or two before Stiles gets with the program and grabs Derek’s shoulder to support himself so he can lift his foot. They repeat the process for the other shoe and when Derek finds himself at crotch height, staring at Stiles jeans and contemplating how to cut them away best, he understands why Stiles finds this embarrassing. It could get embarrassing for Derek real soon too, and he’s the one who’s naked.

“Don’t judge, okay?” Stiles says it quietly and still his voice cracks on the last word. 

Derek puts his hands on the side seam, ready to slice it open. “I’ll be quick,” he promises thickly, focussing on the tear in the fabric instead of the skin that starts showing when he pulls his claw down.  
He works as quick as he can, keeping his eyes averted from Stiles’ front. It’s a good thing the grey goop has a rather pungent smell, because Derek really doesn’t need any enticing smells to add to their already intimate situation. 

When the pants are finally off, along with the boxer shorts that inadvertently came with it, Derek quickly grabs for the hose. Stiles has covered his ‘situation’ with his hands and Derek tries to hold the hose at a convenient angle for himself. He has two choices. One, put the hose on Stiles from a distance, like he did with the wolves. The force of the water would sting horribly and there was a big chance Stiles would fall over. Or, two, dampen the force of the spray with his hand, but then Derek would have to stay close to Stiles. 

“I could really use a cold shower right now, big guy,” Stiles says and Derek makes the mistake of looking him in the face. The blush has spread down towards his chest, more visible there because there is less goop covering the skin that was underneath his clothes. 

Derek shakes himself. “Right.” He turns the hose on, using his hand to dampen the spray of water. It’s a little harder to direct the spray this way, but Derek finds he doesn’t mind. Not with the way Stiles turns his body this way and that, to catch the most of the water. The desire to get clean has washed away their previous inhibitions. 

He helps Stiles wash the goop out of his hair and Stiles is doing the same for him, when Isaac and Scott return. They’re wearing dirt covered overalls and when Stiles turns off the water, they both get a bundle of fabric tossed at them. 

Stiles immediately pushes his garments against Derek’s chest, the Alpha grappling for them before they fall in the muddy water they’re standing in. “Hold these,” Stiles directs belatedly, already swiping the excess of water from his own skin with his hands. He shakes his head, causing droplets of water to fly around. When he is done, he looks down his own body with a wry grin. “Not gonna get any dryer than this, I guess.” He holds his hand out towards Derek, making a grabbing motion. “Gimme that.”

Derek is a little distracted by pale, goose flesh covered skin and Stiles has to pull his overall from his hands to get them back. 

“Huh,” Isaac muses, looking pointedly between Derek and Stiles. Derek glares at him, glad that Scott doesn’t notice. The dark haired werewolf is distracted by Stiles’ attempts of pulling the overall on without it touching the muddy ground. 

When Derek puts his on, he notices they’re just loose work pants with suspenders. He frowns at his getup. When he looks straight down, he can see into his own pants. “You couldn’t get me anything else?”

“Sorry, this was all we could find,” Isaac says, sounding bored and not in the least bit sorry. 

Derek sighs deeply and the resigned feeling gets only more profound when Boyd and Erica show up, the latter cackling loudly about posing for a fireman calendar. The only upside is that Stiles doesn’t seem that sorry either about Derek’s outfit.


End file.
